his wife, cheerfully. "That's why I
married you. I remember the first time I let you come 'ome with me,
mother ses: 'There ain't much of 'im, Susan,' she ses; 'still, arf a loaf
is better than--'"

The bedroom-door slammed behind the indignant Mr. Porter, and the three
lumps and a depression which had once been a bed received his quivering
frame again. With the sheet obstinately drawn over his head he turned a
deaf ear to his wife's panegyrics on striking and her heartfelt tribute
to the end of a perfect day. Even when standing on the cold floor while
she remade the bed he maintained an attitude of unbending dignity, only
relaxing when she smote him light-heartedly with the bolster. In a few
ill-chosen words he expressed his opinion of her mother and her
deplorable methods of bringing up her daughters.

He rose early next morning, and, after getting his own breakfast, put on
his cap and went out, closing the street-door with a bang that awoke the
entire family and caused the somnolent Mrs. Porter to open one eye for
the purpose of winking with it. Slowly, as became a man of leisure, he
strolled down to the works, and, moving from knot to knot of his
colleagues, discussed the prospects of victory. Later on, with a little
natural diffidence, he drew Mr. Bert Robinson apart and asked his advice
upon a situation which was growing more and more difficult.

"I've got my hands pretty full as it is, you know," said Mr. Robinson,
hastily.

"I know you 'ave, Bert," murmured the other. "But, you see, she told me
last night she's going to try and get some of the other chaps' wives to
join 'er, so I thought I ought to tell you."

Mr. Robinson started. "Have you tried giving her a hiding?" he inquired.

Mr. Porter shook his head. "I daren't trust myself," he replied. "I
might go too far, once I started."

"What about appealing to her better nature?" inquired the other.

"She ain't got one," said the unfortunate. "Well, I'm sorry for you,"
said Mr. Robinson, "but I'm busy. I've got to see a Labour-leader this
afternoon, and two reporters, and this evening there's the meeting. Try
kindness first, and if that don't do, lock her up in her bedroom and keep
her on bread and water."

He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after
wandering aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day
with a faint hope that his wife might have seen the error of her ways and
provided dinner for him.